“Arya, please don’t.”
Arya sighed and got up. “I know. I’m sorry for asking, but the revolution is close to being finished. I can feel it. But I’m not sure which way it’ll finish. I’ve worked so hard—well, I guess that doesn’t matter.” Arya smiled a sad smile. “Good night.” And she went to sleep, curled up in the fetal position.
◆ ◆ ◆
So, her parents had been revolutionaries. Now, Meke wondered if the plant had even collapsed at all. She put her head between her knees, making Tooth growl and scamper off.
Her parents had fought for something better for her. This changed something in Meke’s body, in her brain. She wanted that something better for herself too. But how? She couldn’t do what Sterling and Arya asked her to do. That wouldn’t truly be doing anything except sit there and allow others to examine her.
Meke needed to do something.
When Meke had her fill of thinking—and her stomach rumbled—she trudged off to dinner as unsure as before. When she arrived in the dining hall, she saw Cecil, Theria, Trove and Gladys sitting at a table. Meke realized that she hadn’t seen Cecil in weeks. Now she saw why. If it was even possible, Cecil looked grayer and thinner. Despite his state, he tried to smile. His efforts failed; his smile faded into a grimace.
“What’s the matter with Cecil?” Meke asked Gladys.
Gladys shook her head. “We don’t know. The doctors don’t know. Cecil says that his head hurts. Every sound hurts him.”
Cecil rubbed his ears and flinched constantly. As thin as he was, his neck muscles protruded as he tried to still his head.
Meke remembered the early days with her sense. Her headaches obliterated any other sense other than her vision. Images had swallowed her whole. Perhaps Cecil felt the same way. The sight of Cecil’s hands trembling reminded her of the night that she had conquered her vision. Cecil probably couldn't anchor his hearing like she focused her vision. “Gladys, can you ask Cecil if he has tried to open up his mind to all sounds?”
Gladys squinted in confusion as she said these words. Cecil tilted his head as he heard Gladys’ words. “No. I don’t understand,” Cecil said.
Meke stared at her hands, trying to put the words together properly. “My vision also gave me headaches, but once I opened myself up to everything, I was able to make room in my brain for other things.” Meke closed her eyes, remembering. “If you allow your brain to find its focus, your brain will find room for everything, even your thoughts.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Meke tried again. “I let my brain relax. I just let myself see everything,” Meke said, hoping for the best.
Cecil shrugged. “I’ll try it,” he said, shoulders slumped.
A few moments passed with everyone watching Cecil. At first, nothing happened and his face remained drawn. Suddenly, his head jerked up and his face relaxed.
“It works.” His mouth moved in these words as his face went slack. A slow smile spread on his face. After ten minutes of Cecil describing the wonders of what he heard, both Cecil and Theria got up and left in wonderment.
“How did you know to do that?” Gladys asked.
“Well, I did it before, and I thought that it would also work for Cecil.”
Gladys shook her head. “But, how did you know what to do? You know, then?” she asked.
Meke thought the night, about her exhaustion and hopelessness. “I got tired, I guess. It takes a lot of energy to fight it, and I got sick of it,” Meke said.
Gladys shook her head, still uncomprehending.
Trove, long forgotten by the two women, got up from the table. He nodded at her and with clear precision, his lips formed the words good job. He bade his good-byes and disappeared into a hallway. Meke tracked Trove, feeling his figure wind through the hallways. What a strange man, Meke thought, not for the first time. She ignored the small happiness that his compliment gave her.
“He’s so good at swords. He’s smart too,” Gladys said, frowning a bit.
Meke shrugged, “I suppose.”
“Both you and Trove are so much smarter than me. You read and write so good, while I…”
Meke squirmed. Part of that skill came from Doctor Ball for reasons unknown. She wanted these thoughts far away. “Don’t feel bad,” Meke managed to say. “People don’t exactly think I’m worth anything. Especially now that I won’t go to the doctors.”
“You don’t want the doctors to touch you?”
“That’s right, I don’t.”
Gladys nodded. “I don’t know if I could’ve done that. Say no.” Then Gladys looked away.
◆ ◆ ◆
Meke had to consciously slow her steps into a normal rhythm. People thought her odd enough already. Running through the hallways wouldn’t help her reputation. Meke laughed at that thought. What reputation? Despite all of the words they threw around, Meke doubted that Zeroes would ever amount to much, even in a post-revolutionary world. Only Squares, Fivers and Stars walked by her in a uniform. That hadn’t been what her parents wanted. Her parents had wanted her to become something, someone whom others would look up to. All Meke was doing now was sitting around, watching things pass her by.
Gladys found her worth at the nursery and the plant room. Meke tried to imagine herself in the nursery room, prodding children into adulthood, coaxing plants into fruition. No, children unnerved Meke. They ran about, no rhyme or reason to their behavior. Plants? She needed something that made her limbs move. Her body hated the strange stillness and idleness. Not only did children and plants bore Meke, but others looked at Gladys the same way that they looked at Meke. Their eyes would drift over the plump figure as if she didn’t exist.
She kept on walking, forgetting her previous resolution to walk slowly.
Meke stopped as she reached the doorway to the training room. She knew what lay inside, but she still wanted to see it with her own eyes.
Most of the soldiers lingered at the dining hall or the Nerve Center, sated after a full day of practicing, but a woman stood in the middle of an empty room, several knives in hand. Triangles shone from the woman’s hands. Meke frowned. Most soldiers were Squares or Fivers. The few rebel Equis occupied non-military ranks: cooks, nursery keepers, servers and maintenance. Rebellion didn’t excuse one from regular lavatory duties. This Equi flung her knives at the target. Several missed, but the misses got closer to the target every time.
Meke leaned at the doorway, feeling how the air currents rippled out from the knives’ spins. The woman’s face tightened in concentration as she practiced. Meke backed out of the room, not wanting to disturb the Equi, yet she loved watching her. Something about her focused eyes and set mouth buoyed Meke’s spirits.
Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She would become something better, just as her parents wanted. No longer would she be weak.
Meke strolled back to her room, smiling.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MEKE FOUND herself standing, once again, in front of Sterling’s door. The door loomed larger today. The wait would probably be long. Meke hadn’t made an appointment.
She could feel Sterling and three others in the room, their figures standing stiffly around the desk, ignoring the chairs behind them. Sterling sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin. The two men and one woman all stood with their hands clasped behind their backs.
Meke straightened her back and told herself that she had nothing to lose. If Sterling said no, nothing would change. Her throat hurt at that thought. She exhaled slowly, feeling her body loosen.
When the door opened and the soldiers left, surprise registered on Sterling’s face. Friendliness immediately replaced his shock. He smiled and waved her in. Moments after he whispered into his handheld, Arya entered the room. She smiled and squeezed Meke’s shoulder as she passed.
“How can I help you?” Sterling asked.
With a slight exhale, she reviewed the script that she had written in her mind. “I want to help.”
Sterling
smiled. “Excellent, I’ll speak to the doctors.”
Meke’s hands tripped over themselves as she signed. “No, no. No doctors. I want to be a soldier. A proper one.”
Sterling’s head snapped up. “Soldier? But…” he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Why? You can contribute in other ways.”
Meke thrust out her chin, willing herself not to waver. “I want to contribute by being a soldier.”
“You can contribute by working with our doctors. Figure out the secret to your abilities.” Sterling turned his palms out. “You’d give us an immense advantage.”
Meke pressed her lips together. She couldn’t do that ever again, open up her body like that. She shook her head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Sterling sighed. The stillness became too much for Meke. She blurted out, “The revolution isn’t going that well is it? Prosperon is one step ahead of you every time. You just lost twenty-five soldiers.” Arya flinched, but her eyes stayed steady. “I could help. I would see any traps before soldiers walk into them.”
Sterling chuckled, shaking his head. “Impressive. Some thought that you weren’t that bright. I knew that they were wrong.” He leaned onto the desk. “You have been watching us, haven’t you?”
Meke’s jaw tightened at the mention of the ones who thought her stupid. She was not surprised. Most people saw the inability to talk as a sign of slowness. A Zero shone on her hands for a reason. Still, it stung all the same.
“Yes. I don’t see a problem.” Meke said, hoping Sterling didn’t see her hands tremble.
“There’s at least one problem with you as a soldier. Your deafness. How will you communicate with the other soldiers?”
Meke bit her cheek to keep herself from rolling her eyes. It always came back to this one thing. Prosperon boxed and labeled her a Zero because of her deafness. She became a patient because of her deafness. Sterling would have her poked and prodded because of her deafness. Her parents had wanted something better for her, as did Meke.
“Soldiers already use hand signals. I use the same thing, but everyday. We’d communicate just fine.”
Sterling chuckled. “Well, at least you’ve thought this through.” He frowned. “Now, I’m not agreeing to anything. But how about the role of a lookout?”
Meke wouldn’t take any diluted versions of a real soldier. “No. I’ll train as a real soldier. I’ll carry weapons. I’ll fight just like anyone.”
“You’d be safer that way. We’d have someone next to you. You’d help by telling people about what you see.”
Meke shook her head. “It wouldn’t work. I can’t see forever. What if I’m too far away to see what’s coming on the other side? If I do it, I do it right.”
Meke regretted the word if. She had meant to portray absolute confidence, but it was too late, now. Meke glanced at Arya. Her cheeks tight, Arya’s lips moved in stops and starts. Still, Arya spoke Meke’s words.
Sterling tapped his fingers on his desk. His fingers moved in a flurry. The motion made the points of Sterling’s star twitch. After a long while, Sterling looked at Meke.
“You’re more useful to us in a doctor’s room than you are out in the field. Safer, too.”
Meke had to tell herself that Sterling hadn’t made his decision yet. “Maybe. You don’t know what the doctors can figure out.”
“How would we know when you refuse to even give us a blood sample?”
“But you said that I had choices. Reasonable freedom. I want to do this, and I’ll do it right.”
Sterling sat back, staring at the wall. Meke sagged back into her chair, feeling small and defeated. She tried to tell herself that she had tried and that was what mattered.
“What about the Elite Forces?”
“I’ll be able to defend myself,” Meke said, her spine straightening.
Sterling grunted and then stared at the wall some more. Finally, he said, “Well, I think it’s an inefficient choice, but it’s a choice,” he paused. “You can be a soldier, but only if you meet my conditions.”
Meke’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“You’ll train with Trove Anderson. You’ll only become a soldier at his say-so. I trust that man implicitly.”
Meke couldn't stop her mouth from falling open. No, she told herself, it didn’t matter who trained her, as long as she was trained. She just didn’t know why they wanted to use Trove. Perhaps she should feel flattered.
Meke nodded. What choice did she have?
“It’ll take months. Are you truly prepared for this? It’s hard work.”
Meke tried not to feel insulted. “Of course I am.”
“Fine. Trove will contact you soon about the training schedule.” He waved Meke away.
Meke knew a dismissal when she saw it. As the door closed behind her, she felt Sterling slump back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The defeated posture didn’t suit him at all.
Meke wondered why Sterling had let her do it at all. He told the truth about one thing: she was more useful to them in a lab than in the field.
Standing in the middle of the hallway, Meke felt tired, so tired that she wanted to curl up and fall asleep.
◆ ◆ ◆
Meke slowed as she felt Arya approaching. She turned around, leaned against the wall. Arya blinked, then shook off whatever daze that had overtaken her. The small, delicate woman peered up at Meke, squinting. “So, this is your decision, uh?”
“Yes,” Meke said.
Arya stared at the wall behind Meke. She paused before she raised her hands to speak. “Why this? It’s—a damn fool thing to do. It’s dangerous. You could help out so much more in the doctor’s office. You’d be safe.”
Meke looked at her hands. “I don’t want to be safe, Arya. I want to do things.”
Arya rubbed her forehead, cradling one of her elbows. “You would do things in the doctor’s office. You’d help us understand what’s happening to you.”
“But that’s not something that I did. It’s just—” Meke shook her head, “—something that someone did to me. Something I didn’t earn.”
“Your parents wanted you to be safe. They didn’t want you to become a soldier,” Arya said.
“No, they wanted something better for me.”
Arya stared at Meke, her eyes wide. “You could unlock the secrets of the human body. That’s something amazing. You can’t throw that away.”
“I didn’t do that. Doctor Ball did. Plus, you have Cecil,” Meke said, squeezing her arms tight.
A sad smile appeared on Arya’s face. “He’s not doing so well with his sense. It’s too overwhelming for him. It’s eating him up. He can’t eat or sleep.”
Meke pressed her lips together, turning them into an invisible line. Her insides felt rubbed raw at the thought of Cecil flailing under the burden of this thing, as Meke stood tall. It made her wonder what would happen to her. Meke felt fine, but would she always?
A thought slithered into her: maybe you would be better off staying here and staying safe. Meke didn’t know what would happen to her, if she’d simply fall apart like Cecil. Meke squeezed her fists. That wasn’t right—she needed to be something better than a trembling, crouching thing in a corner as she had been at ten. She would stand tall and proud and people would see it.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter. Sterling has decided,” Arya said. “He wants to gain your trust, you know. He gave in entirely too easily.”
Meke blinked. The idea that Sterling cared about what she thought did her credit, but Meke didn’t understand it. Meke wondered why he bothered.
“Well,” Arya inhaled deeply, expanding her chest, “it’s done. Good luck with the training. But—well, keep yourself safe.”
Meke watched Arya’s small body turn the corridor, walk down the hall and through the Nerve Center. It felt good to have someone want her safe, warm even. Meke almost hated herself for that pinched, worried look on Arya’s face. I’m doing the right thing, Meke almost convinced herself.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
MEKE’S HEAD spun as a rough hand nudged her out of peaceful sleep. Her eyelids protested, seemingly stuck in their old position. Her arms felt heavy and sluggish. This time, it was no mere nudge. Two large hands jostled her out of her drowsiness. Her eyelids flew open.
Trove stood at the foot of her bed, face blank. He threw some black clothing on her bed. Heat flushed Meke’s cheeks. She felt lazy already. It was far earlier than she usually rose. Idleness bred late rising times.
Trove raised his two fingers and his lips formed the shape, “Two minutes, training room.”
Meke sighed and nodded. As he left, Meke scrambled out of the bed. She put on her clothes as quickly as she could. She had to laugh. Down to the hand motions, it was like she was back in the institution. Now, however, she would do something real. The Zero on her hands would fade into insignificance.
Smiling, Meke jogged to the training room. She barely noticed people’s glances. Meke was early. When she arrived, she was surprised to see Gladys there, standing next to Trove. Gladys smiled anxiously when she saw Meke. Her cheeks, usually pink, were now grayish-white.
“What are you doing here?” Meke asked.
“I’ll translate for Trove. They needed someone, so I offered,”
Meke nodded. She needed to communicate with Trove somehow. Hand signals wouldn’t suffice for this. A small part of her said that Gladys wasn’t good enough. Conversations lagged and halted because of Gladys’ unskilled hands. Meke sighed. She couldn’t do any better. Gladys stood there, fidgeting and trembling.
“Are you all right?” Meke asked.
Gladys bobbed her head. “Oh, I’m fine. Just fine. I’m good. No, great.”
Meke squinted at the woman whose face remained slightly gray. If Gladys wanted to do this, Meke wouldn’t stop her. Meke patted Gladys’ soft shoulders, hoping the woman’s strange anxiety would fade soon. Meke could feel every single tremor coursing through her body.
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